A shirley temple for james and a revolver for kate
I started reading a new book today. This reading ain't so bad. It is called A Widow for One Year by a Mr. John Irving. I have only read the first 20 pages, and though it turns out it is from a completely different point of view than what I thought it was going to be, I really like it so far. It made me want to paint. I was going to read Catch-22 but I couldn't remember who wrote it. I then remembered I wanted to read A Widow for One Year because there is a movie that is gonna come out soon that is based on it called The Door in the Floor and I really want to see it. Focus Features is making it and the preview alone looks magical, as all their movies do. Even if I don't like the movies, eg Swimming Pool, they all are at least beautifully made as far as I can tell.
I think I would like to write and illustrate my own children's books. Granted this thought is sparked as a result of one of the characters in A Widow for One Year, but I really would like to.
The other day I watched an old Mike Tyson boxing match from when he was 18 years old. He looked like he was a 24 year old robot destruction machine made to kill people by punching them hard and fast and repeatedly. The fight only lasted like 30 seconds or something like that before the other guy was knocked out, so the rest of the program was about how good Tyson was but how crazy he is too. One guy said that when he was younger Tyson would call old ladies m'am and all and ask if they needed help carrying their groceries and then take their stuff and knock their teeth out. Forgive me for saying it and not using the -er...but that's straight up gansta. It's also pretty terrible.
I think that it was in All the King's Men, Jack Burden says that something was swelling up inside of Willie. I hope something is swelling up inside of me, or perhaps there is nothing. That doesn't mean I won't mean anything in this world I guess, though you might beg to differ John? (Not on the subject of me, but on whether or not anyone's existence matters. I wonder sometimes if I misinterpreted a lot of what you talked about during our afternoon discussions.) But it seems like that would at least mean that I meant less than some.
I think I would like to write and illustrate my own children's books. Granted this thought is sparked as a result of one of the characters in A Widow for One Year, but I really would like to.
The other day I watched an old Mike Tyson boxing match from when he was 18 years old. He looked like he was a 24 year old robot destruction machine made to kill people by punching them hard and fast and repeatedly. The fight only lasted like 30 seconds or something like that before the other guy was knocked out, so the rest of the program was about how good Tyson was but how crazy he is too. One guy said that when he was younger Tyson would call old ladies m'am and all and ask if they needed help carrying their groceries and then take their stuff and knock their teeth out. Forgive me for saying it and not using the -er...but that's straight up gansta. It's also pretty terrible.
I think that it was in All the King's Men, Jack Burden says that something was swelling up inside of Willie. I hope something is swelling up inside of me, or perhaps there is nothing. That doesn't mean I won't mean anything in this world I guess, though you might beg to differ John? (Not on the subject of me, but on whether or not anyone's existence matters. I wonder sometimes if I misinterpreted a lot of what you talked about during our afternoon discussions.) But it seems like that would at least mean that I meant less than some.